The Butler
by Mesmerize Bulls
Summary: Young heir Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of a traditional British butler in his household. Of course resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that his new butler was drop dead gorgeous. USUK
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

Summary: Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out Arthur the butler was, despite being older a few good years than him, a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

Warnings: Yaoi, obscene languages, sexy times.

**The Butler**

Chapter 1

"A fucking _what?_" The dashing, albeit a bit disheveled after all night partying, young master of the house screamed at his newest generation iPhone while pouring his sixth cup of coffee this morning. The gadget was visibly safe sandwiched between its owner's ear and shoulder. "You got me another watchdog? I thought the three of us had learned by now that the only bitch I would be willing to keep is if it's A: furry with tail and the whole set, or B: naked and moaning my name. Other than that is a big no-no."

_"Please don't speak to your mother like that,"_ a soft feminine voice tsked from the other side of the line. _"And you knew there would be consequences when you had your usual uniquely-Alfred idea that a visit to a game arcade is the perfect entertainment for prospective business clients."_

"Right, sorry Mom. No dirty word." Twenty-year old Alfred F. Jones turned sheepish, being a decent enough son to feel bad and apologize. "But what are ya talkin' about? The Japs love the arcade. Ask Kiku." His best friend even had his own mini arcade filled with classic game machines, after all. Just a perk of being the CEO's second son.

"_**Elderly **__Japanese clients, Alfred. One of them almost died from a heart attack when you forced him to play that god-awful dance machine." _The man could vividly imagine his mother rolling her pretty blue eyes. _"I'm sure something as basic as 'when hosting clients do pay attention to their interest, age, and this little thing called heart condition' covered in those expensive business etiquette classes your father loves to enroll you in so much."_

"I dunno. I might not catch that since I'm a retard, or at least that's what dad keeps telling me."

A tired sigh, "_Don't start this again, dear. You're too old for a petty grudge against your father."_

_Petty?_ "Oh, c'mon, Mom," he paused to gulp down his caffeine noisily, both because he needed the boost and to buy time to check his temper. "Don't tell me you're not pissed at dad after all the shit he'd done to us. I mean he's just, oh say..._fucking divorced _you because Mattie is mute and he thought I have a backward IQ?"

He was dyslexic and slightly ADD, not idiotic, thank you very much.

"_Alright, alright. You're dad is a mega asshole. Happy now we've established that?" _Alfred swore he could detect a smile throughout the sentence.

His own lips quirked upwards, "Feels heavenly. So now spill why are you the one calling me about this watchdog thing? I miss you by the way."

"_I miss you too, Alfie. But please don't refer to your new butler as a dog. He's a good man, and he'll be different than your father's usual brainless lackeys. I wouldn't engage in a goddamn verbal war with your dad to push this matter for nothing. Trust me."_

Silence, except a few mechanical sound effects.

"..._err, Alf?_"

"Huh? Yeah, sure." The blond's mind already shifted sometime during the verbalization of the sentences above, which quite a record time considering his attention span condition, opting to focus on a zombie-killing crusade curtesy of his PSP.

There was another tired sigh before the call ended with a "_Remember, behave! Good bye, Alfie."_ and a click from his mother's side. Alfred followed by shutting his own phone, carelessly putting it down next to him on the black leather couch in the living room of his spacious apartment. Two deep blue eyes were still following the movement displayed on the game in front of him, but his mind started to roam on the topic of a certain butler that was due to arrive today.

This was nothing new of course, the attempt to control-and he quoted his dad—'the wayward son'. Not that he was particularly horrible or anything. The old man just liked to blow things out of proportion. Alfred was the perfect angel of a son; angel who enjoyed getting smashed at parties and plastered his (still handsome, dammit) drunken mug all over the tabloids came morning, enforced his ridiculous ideas that might or might not, directly or indirectly, causing bad business for his dad's multimillion dollars company (some of them were just sort-of harmless jokes, really), and definitely loved some sexy time with either gender (see? He was only _partially _gay, so the old man really had no need to blow his top off when Al kind of 'came out' by having a picture of him with a certain male model in a passionate compromising position on some gossip magazines). But that was a tangent, so back to the butler dude dilemma: His Union Jack boxer-wearin' ass might pose as a slight hitch in the young born-and-breed American's pursuit of happiness and freedom, and that was simply _unpatriotic_. Hell, Alfred even dared to say that it could probably bring about another Boston Tea Party. For sure.

Alright, what he needed was a plan. Perhaps something similar to the diabolical plot he set up to make a certain German military buff willingly quit being his doberman? Man, the memory of the seemingly straight-laced dude threatened to drown himself in Alfred's bathtub after his racy photo with a cute Italian was leaked via Al's personal blog and the German's hacked Facebook account was as fresh as a burger hot from the grill; it was deliciously hilarious. Although, it couldn't be all that evil since now Ludi was obviously happy with his sexuality and little Feliciano. Well, what could he say? He was a hero, and that meant even his cruelest plan had the potential to help people. Was that awesome or was that _awesome_? HAHAHAHAHAHA-ack, got side-tracked again. Damn! Anyway, a plan...

...he'd think of one after he saved the world from zombie infestation.

* * *

><p>Life wasn't always a fair lady. Sometimes it became a bitch, deciding we had enough sparkles and throwing in a random shit just for the sake of it. This had to be one of those moments. Although surprisingly, Alfred didn't mind it one bit. His eyes were trailing southward of the backside figure in front of him, from the unruly sandy blond locks, to pale neck, small shoulders, straight back, and finally landed on two firm round body parts covered by crisply ironed black trousers. Yeah, he definitely didn't mind it one damn bit.<p>

Confused? Let him re-tracked.

When the buzz in his apartment rang around three in the afternoon, all thoughts about a particular phone conversation had been well forgotten, Alfred forced his ass off the couch and away from the true love of his life: his Xbox 360. Grumbling, he dragged his steps to the front door and pulled it open with more force than necessary. "Whatever you're selling, I ain't interested."

A pair of very bright, very enticing green eyes right opposite him blinked once before one Big Mac-sized eyebrow furrowed. "Beg pardon, sir, but I'm not selling anything. Well, except my service that is, and I believe you've been expecting my arrival?"

Alfred's first (hopeful) thought was 'did I make another drunk hooker call again last night?' 'Cause he was totally cool with that if it meant getting a taste of the man at his doorstep. He was probably ogling right now, but it was hard to ignore the finely pressed black three-piece suit clinging on the lean body, sexy British accent tickling the American's ears, and larger-than-life eyebrows demanding for attention. A closed black umbrella was hanging by its crooked handle on the man's arm, quite like a classy accessory of a proper gentleman. The whole look was way better than the traditional slutty leathers.

The young Jones licked his lips as a natural reaction.

"Ah, yeah...sure, c'mon in." He stepped sideways, allowing the visitor to pass him into the threshold, before following the Brit. The door closed behind him in a soft click. They both paused their steps in the middle of the hallway; it seemed the shorter and European of the two was the first to stop, looking a bit unsure.

"So, Mister Jones," he began.

"Alfred. Just Alfred please." The sandy blond youth interrupted as he offered what he thought was his most charming-slash-flirty grin that many males and females alike had been fallen victims to. _Since screaming Mr. Jones during the height of our sexual consummation doesn't exactly work magic on my cock,_ he added as a mental note. But then his brain supplied an image of the beautiful specimen being underneath him, rosy with slightly labored breath, gazing up at the American through thick dark lashes to match those jungles of eyebrows. Hmm, he wondered where else on the man's body could be as bushy. Down there, perhaps?

His southern region twitched in excitement.

Shit.

"You know what? You can call me anything you like, babe. I don't give a fuck." Alfred took several steps forward, effectively breaching the other man's personal space. They were only a breath away now, both of them realized, with the way the young Jones heir slightly hunching down to level their faces together as if he was a lion trying to entrap its prey with both its large body and its intimidating presence. "But what I do give a fuck, is _you_," he purposely purred out the last word, eyelids began to drop. "And I meant that quite literally." One last push forward and Alfred's lips found themselves crashing eagerly on the Briton's-or so he imagined.

The first thought that popped up somewhere in the American's thick skull was: _damn, does the dude have the Great Wall of China as lips or something? Where's the fucking door? _So he cracked open one eye, and blue immediately met five long fingers closing up on him like prison bars...or some huge ass spider's legs. This prompted the kisser to jump back with a rather undignified 'eeeeeekkk'.

"Honestly," the lighter blond of the two sighed heavily. He was now wiping his right hand (wet with _his_ saliva as he tried to pry open what he thought was the man's lips with his tongue, Alfred realized with embarrassment) using a simple white handkerchief that was pulled out from his breast pocket. "With that kind of dirty talk, it's highly a wonder why there are still people who would be willing to, excuse your language, fuck or be fucked by you."

"...err, because I'm cute?" Alfred tried to contribute helpfully. "And isn't it your job? I mean you _are _a prostitute, right dude?"

The man neatly folded the now-soiled handkerchief back into his breast pocket before shifting his attention fully to the young heir. His green (mint shade, Alfred noted, unconsciously drowning in the beautiful color) eyes regarded the presence before him evenly. A resounding 'thwack' was Alfred's only warning to the incoming blow by said-man's black umbrella on the top of his head, which he instantly replied with a whine and a "-the hell you did that for?" Both his hand had flew up and currently rubbing a good-sized lump that throbbed like a bitch. The rather petite British man smiled for the first time since he stepped foot into the young Jones' apartment, and Alfred almost-almost!-thought the he'd be willing to receive another harassment by an umbrella if it meant he could see that heavenly view again.

"Arthur Kirkland, at your service sir." The sweet innocent smile stuck on those thin-yet-perfectly-kissable lips. "From today onwards I will serve as your butler."

He gave a polite little bow, one that could be expected from a traditional British butler in those historical romance movies the ex-Mrs. Jones loved so much. Once Arthur lifted back his head into his usual straight posture, a smirk that somehow reminded Alfred of a pirate captain and his brutal plundering way of life was now taking its throne on the butler's face, completely erasing the Britannia angel persona he had just a moment ago. The American gulped as his new butler leaned forward, imitating their previous position except that now the roles were reversed. Alfred swore he could felt his heart was drumming a war call against his ribcage when beautiful Arthur blew a puff of warm breath directly on his right ear before whispering in a sultry voice,

"And I do not take bollocks from anyone."

TBC.

A/N: My first Hetalia fanfiction. Lord, I finally able to pull out all my courage and write a USUK (I was so scared because they're so perfect you know?). But yeah, I do hope you at least manage to enjoy this even if it's only for a tiny bit. **And if anyone would be willing to be a beta reader for this fic, oh god please please PM me or say something in your review?** That would be greatly appreciated since I'm not a native English speaker. Thanks, loves.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

Summary: Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out Arthur the butler was, despite being older a few good years than him, a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

**A/N:** A big tons of love and thank you to **Eva Hazuki** (my general beta-reader) and **Star Anise **(my go-to-person regarding appropriate usage of British slang). I don't know what I would do without you two darlings and I will definitely impose on you again in the future. Sorry and thank you for putting up with me *bows*

And of course a shower of love to all **my readers/reviewers/people who subscribe for alerts/people who favorite** this story. Holly crap guys, I'd never thought it would get this much positive response. So thank you so much, you've all made my day/week/month/year/5ever with all your supports.

**The Butler**

Chapter 2

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"I heard you have a butler now, Al-kun." A casual comment, laced with familiar Japanese accent and a few mechanical static, went live right into Alfred's ears, causing the young man to slightly adjust his headphones. He delayed the answer on the tip of his tongue, eyes glued to the screen in front of him that was currently showing a random street corner littered with rubble and wisps of black fumes. Gunshots were heard, and then with a few commands in the language of buttons from a video game controller, a grenade was launched into the distance.

"Where did ya hear it from, lil' dude?" Finally the cheery voice replied, accompanied by a well-timed explosion.

"I think you just killed Gil-kun." Another casual comment, but this time a light chuckle accompanied the voice. "And coincidentally, or as you Westerners like to say 'speak of the devil', I heard it from him."

The young American let his usual boisterous laugh rang, and it hit a higher decibel as 'IGotAwesomeSwag' appeared on his voice-chat window. With one swift click he declined the chat invitation, fully knowing that a certain albino only wanted to bitch his ears off. "And he claimed that Felix is the gossip queen…" Identical blue orbs were rolling. "Gil's such a fucking closet diva." The voice on the other side of the headphones joined the laugh and Alfred decided to interpret it as some sort of an agreement.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, but I am extremely curious. What is he like?" The voice came again. "Butler-san, I mean."

A projection of Arthur Kirkland, butler extraordinaire with his fine black suit and pristine white gloves, appeared without consent in the depth of Alfred's mind. No, his cheeks did not just suddenly sprouting pinkish color, nor were they felt warm. No, he did not swallow his own saliva because his throat was parched. No, he was _definitely _not whipped. Thank you very much.

"Alfred-kun?" The figure-less voice seemed to have thought that the pause had gone long enough, and began to worry that he was being ditched due to the American seeing something shiny, or a squirrel, or some other random distractions. It wouldn't be the first time, really.

"Ah, I'm still here," Alfred replied, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck although his conversation partner couldn't see the gesture. The screen in front of him was now showing a replay of his game character's death, apparently being sniped by some asshole named 'titslord_koreadaze' during his Arthur-daydream. "Arthur...Arthur's nice enough, I suppose."

"Aah, so are you getting along well with Butler-san?" There was a smile there, but the seemingly innocent question made the young Jones heir froze. Again, the pause stretched several seconds too long to be normal, so the voice called once more sounding unsure, "Ano, Alfred-kun?"

"...Sometimes it hurts, Kiku."

"_E-Eeeh_?"

"My relationship with Arthur," Alfred elaborated. His right hand now cradling the upper half of his face while the fingers grabbed at his golden fringes and tugged at them in frustration. "It's just really complex…'cause _he's _complex. I mean, Arthur's so damn sexy that it takes all my self-restraint just to not rip off his suit and fuck him senseless whenever I see him, but-" he paused to take a deep breath here, "-underneath that pretty face he's something more. Something I've never faced before."

Somewhere below the same midnight sky, Kiku Honda tilted his head to one side while his best friend ranted on. Alfred's voice had turned into a grave whisper, as if the subject of the conversation was something as frightening as Internet censorship.

"He just can't keep his hands off of me, so our relationship is pretty much physical now. At first I tried to please him because I just wanna see him smile, ya know? Gosh, you should've seen him when he smiles, Kiku. It's damn close to a religious experience. Everything is like illuminated." The blond was gushing, and suddenly, without warning his voice cracked as though he was holding back a sob, "B-but he's so demanding that I just can't keep up. He wants me non-stop, day and even sometimes way past the night. It's like signing your soul to the demon. I mean, we all need a break once in awhile! So you know what? Fuck Arthur! I'm going to get back at him so awesome it _hurts_! But you get where I'm coming from, right dude?"

There were only static noise and almost unnoticeable sound of breathing filling his headphones. Alfred figured that his Japanese friend probably needed a moment to digest his wait-bro-let-me-pour-my-heart-out moment, and decided to use the gap in their conversation to reminisce his encounter with the butler one morning a few days after the Englishman had arrived:

* * *

><p>Sock padded feet tip-toed across the smooth marble floor. With every few steps, blue eyes would roam around the surrounding area in high alert. As long as there was no sign of two caterpillars posing on top of an angelic face, the young master of the Jones house could breathe in relief. The front door was in sight now; just a few more feet until he reaches it. He could practically see Lady Liberty beckoning, ready to welcome the American into independence. His mind was happily humming the Star Spangled Banner, and shoes that were dangling from his left hand swayed in-tune with the melody. Getting closer, the door handle was within his reach—<p>

Something silver (and geez dude, that look kinda sharp!) shot past him with an impressive speed before meeting the door's wooden surface in a resounding clash, and landed on the floor.

Alfred's arm had stopped in mid-air due to surprise, his gaze dropped at the fork near his feet. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he still could make a run for it. If only he would just grow some balls like the man he was supposed to be, and opened the damn door. But instead he found himself turning on his heel, and bravely (no, he wasn't shaking) facing his captor.

"And where are you going, if I may inquire, sir?" Those gem-like eyes zeroed in on him with a strange feral quality. All of a sudden, Alfred felt himself much like a baby mouse facing a snake.

"A-ahahaha, Arthur!" The fake laugh sounded just like what it really was: fake. "I was just umm...going to the office. Busy day Monday, yeah dude?"

The butler critically scanned his young master from head to toe. A massive eyebrow rose. "In your leather jacket, t-shirt, and jeans?"

Shit. "Err yeah. I thought I could take a break from the formal clothing once in awhile. Besides, don't I look better in this authentic World War Two bomber jacket than some boring suit?" He gave the skeptical butler a thumbs-up, completed with a grin that showed off his dazzling, pearly whites.

"Nonsense, sir!" Arthur chuckled, distracting Alfred with the way it rang nicely in his ears before the taller blond realized it could very well be the sound of his funeral bell.

The Briton came closer, and with each step that closed the gap between them, Alfred took a step back, until his back met the door behind him. The space between the two men was now minimized to the point that Alfred could see a few freckles splashed sporadically on the bridge of Arthur's nose. Aww, how cute—

"Strip."

—not.

"G-geez Artie, if you want me that badly we should totally do it in bed. More comfy than a random corner of the apartment, don't 'cha think?" It wasn't that he never had people telling him to do so before, it was just the way Arthur was doing it that seemed so different. The command was dyed in a mix of emotions, none that the playboy could pinpoint with precision, and they were unlike those 'strips' he had heard before coming from lustful mouths.

"You understand perfectly what I mean, young master Jones." Arthur smiled in the way an adult would in order to coax a small child. His right hand was reaching for the heir's arm, gently tugging it forward. "Let's get you changed, poppet."

See? This was why everything with Arthur Kirkland was so complicated. The man could shift from an oozing sex-appeal deity, to a savage dictator, then to a sweet little man who could very well be your mother-figure. It was that messed up. Maybe Alfred wasn't the only one with a disorder in this house. Maybe Arthur was bipolar or had schizophrenia or something. Shit.

Somewhere in the midst of him being a space cadet, Alfred had been successfully dragged back into his bedroom, stripped of his leather jacket, and now a pair of hands was tugging at the edge of his Captain America t-shirt, pushing it up past the American's chiseled chest. Being undressed while in a daze snapped Alfred back to reality. "Err excuse me, Artie, but what do you think you're doing to my body while I'm not paying attention?" His tone was more of a deadpan than anything.

For a fraction of second Arthur stiffened, his expression depicting that of a criminal being caught in the deed, before instantly changing it. Alfred blinked and half-wondered if what he just saw was some sort of an optical illusion. The butler was now giving Alfred a look of innocence, emphasized with the way he fluttered those eyelashes. "Since you seemed unresponsive, I was merely assisting you, sir. But you're back with us now, so I'll leave the rest of the task to you." He let go of the clothing and gave a little bow before taking several steps back.

"Uh, right…Thanks." Alfred decided not to read too deeply into things (it's not his forte, anyway) and just shrugged. He found his new clothing ensemble neatly piled and ready on the bed; rich-dark blue suits, a gray with black pinstripe dress shirt, and a thin silken black tie. As he began to peel off his current attire, starting from the t-shirt, he could feel a focused look trailing and taking in his every movement. With more sun-kissed skin and well-defined muscle being exposed, the gaze seemed to burn into him. Alfred swallowed, pondering on his suspicion. Dared he hope?

The young Jones slowly moved his neck as if he was trying to rid himself of a crick on the body part, slyly stealing a glance at his butler. To his disappointment, Arthur was locked in a glaring match with the wine-colored carpet underneath his shoes as if the interior ornament had done something to offend him. Did Alfred only imagine those lingering looks then?

"I'm done," he finally turned to face Arthur, properly dressed as the top executive of a multimillion dollar company his father wanted him to be. "So, I guess I'll be going now."

"No breakfast, sir?"

"No, thanks. I'll just get something at McDonald's." He waved carelessly, wanting nothing but to get into his car and drive to freedom. Office? Ha, they could suck his—

"Just let me fixed your hair a bit, sir." Arthur's voice took that gentle tone again. "Come sit down so I could do it properly." He guided Alfred into a chair behind his work desk. It was probably the soothing tone, coupled with the English accent, that made Alfred obediently followed behind the smaller man and did what was told of him. Arthur went behind the furniture and began running his slim fingers among Alfred's locks. It felt quite nice, especially when those fingers found his cowlick and tugged at it experimentally. Now _that _felt _really _nice, and the hormonal young man (he should've passed this stage, like seriously) began to get rather excited. Down there.

Trying to make his awkward problem go away, Alfred tried to focus on something else rather than Arthur and his magic touch. That was when he found stacks of documents, labeled with today's date in Toris' handwriting, sitting innocently on the desk. "Why are these here?" He indicated to the documents with his right hand.

Something suddenly clicked itself on his left wrist, and a second click was heard as his left hand was yanked down. Alfred could only react with a short yelp before realizing that he had been handcuffed to the armrest. Arthur was imitating the Cheshire cat's grin right beside him. "I beg your pardon, sir, but apparently I shouldn't trust that you'll be going to the office willingly like you say you would. At least that's what my predecessors have told me, so last night I took the liberty and asked your secretary, Mr. Lorinaitis, to kindly fax the documents that needed to be signed."

"..."

Oh, that's it. The son of a bitch was going down.

With a roar Alfred launched himself into Arthur, dragging the man, himself, and the chair down to the floor. Arthur got the wind knocked out of his system as he landed with two extra baggages on top of him. It took Arthur a moment to regain his air supply, and it was then that Alfred got acquainted with Arthur's explosive side.

"GET OFF ME THIS INSTANT, YOU FUCKING FAT ARSE!" The slender man screeched, while trying to push off the big lump of human from his person.

Alfred, of course, didn't budge because he was quite offended by the insult. "I'm not fat, you dick! It's the chair that's heavy!" It had to be the furniture. He worked out too routinely too be fat. Rude!

"Just get off, get off!" Arthur kept trying to relieve himself from the situation, which included pounding his fists against the younger's chest.

Alfred grinned broadly, looking down as the source of his frustration just moments ago was now wiggling underneath him. Being the hero he was, Alfred propped himself up a bit with his right hand, granting the butler a small breathing space, although it wasn't roomy enough to allow escape. He enjoyed seeing Arthur like this: shades of red blooming from his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, even to his neck as parts of their bodies smashed together like pieces of a messy puzzle. Their faces and chests almost touched, while from the stomach below they were only separated by their clothes. Two pairs of legs were tangling in one another. Of course this meant that Arthur could very much feel the 'little problem' Alfred was having earlier, since the slight-hard member was pressed against his own groin.

Those bright greens widened to a point that they looked almost comical. The blush on Arthur's skin brought reinforcement, contrasting the man's eyes rather nicely with his current complexion. The butler opened and closed his mouth, struggling to verbalize something that could make sense. In the end he just sputtered an almost unintelligible "Pervert!" and "Wanker!"

The American let out a joyous laugh at the other's misery. Tempted to make the most out of the situation, he leaned in and nuzzled Arthur's gracefully carved neck with his nose. The quaint scent of Earl Grey and something rather sweet and woody, perhaps from some kind of cologne, mingled and infiltrated his senses. Lured by the aroma, he softly brushed his lips across the smooth skin, moving down the length of the neck. He stopped just above Arthur's collar bone, and began sucking and grazing at the spot gently with his teeth. The exclusive attention on the base of his neck caused the Briton to let out a strangled moan, as both his hands flew up instinctively and onto his master's hair, though he did not really know what to do after that.

An idea struck when Arthur saw the lone cowlick swayed in harmony with the movement of its idiotic owner. He immediately made a grab for the hair and yanked it up as hard as he could. The reaction was instantaneous:

"Y_EEEEEOOOUUUCCHHH_!"

The tragic howl of pain brought the smile back to Arthur's lips. "Alright, get off me now git or I'll pluck this blasted hair right out by its root!"

* * *

><p>Since then their relationship had become a chaotic jumble of not-quite-friendship, unresolved sexual tension, and outright physical violence. The neighbors had learned to ignore the bumps, cries of mortal torture that was usually accompanied by some form of obscenities, and the sound of things crashing that resulted from objects being hurled. Actually, now they pretty much preferred to completely ignore the existence of young Mr. Jones and his peculiar English butler. Ignorance was indeed a bliss, they would say.<p>

However, for one Kiku Honda, his best friend's story was one that he could not simply ignore. He replayed Alfred's words in his mind, as if he was trying to solve any secrets and codes that could be hidden within those sentences. Just like Alfred's, his imagination started conjuring a portrayal of the event involving a certain blond young master and the blank face of a butler, which he immediately filled in with a random _bishounen. _The scenario was quite close to the one Alfred currently recalled, except for Kiku's image was decorated with less physical struggles, and more explicit anal actions…with tentacles.

He regretted nothing.

* * *

><p>Thus with that, a medium-sized package arrived at the Jones household about two weeks after Alfred poured his heart out to his best friend. Arthur signed the paper for the deliveryman and carried the box to the dining table for his master to inspect it.<p>

"It's from my buddy, Kiku." Alfred announced happily after reading the tidy hand-written note on the package.

"Shall I help you open it, sir?" Arthur offered, right hand already armed with a scissor.

"Sure, thanks Artie!"

It just took several seconds for the package to be neatly dissected, its contents openly displayed for two set of curious eyes. A man promptly raised his eyebrow while his younger counterpart seemed horrified.

Dozens of Viagra boxes were tightly jammed inside.

"Are you doing something dangerous without my knowing, sir?" There was a threat hidden somewhere in the question.

"Wha—no!" Alfred shook his head rapidly. "I-I don't even know why he would—"

"There's something else in here." The butler pulled several thin colorful books from one side of the package, apparently those being slipped in after the Viagra. Reading a few pages confirmed that the books were in fact comics…of gay porn.

The current page that was being gazed upon, by both butler and master, was depicting a man with light-colored blond hair (much like Arthur's own) being laid on his back on a broad dining table that was littered with messy food and desserts. His overall appearance was distastefully disheveled with the way the white dress shirt was fully unbuttoned, and his tie somehow ended up binding his wrists together. A pair of black pants with a union-jack boxer peeking from inside them was dangling on one of the man ankles, shamelessly exposing his vital part. Interestingly enough, the only piece of clothing that managed to stay perfectly on was a pair of dark socks. However, the man didn't seem to care much about fashion or modesty as his face was in pure elation with furrowed wild eyebrows and dark tinge across his cheeks. Another man with dirtier blond, and a somewhat familiar gravity-defying strand of hair, was leaning down at the edge of the table. Both of his hands were holding the first man's pale thighs up in the air, fingers grasping the skin with such pressure that it would guarantee red marks. He was apparently bending his friend in a certain way so that it would allow him to lick some sort of cream that was spread (for a reason or another that was _surely_ against food hygiene rules) on the other man's buttocks.

.

.

.

"Shit. So that's why he wanted me to send him your picture."

TBC

**A/N:** Guys guys...I'm not even sure what I had just written, or what I will write anymore (well, okay maybe I do have _some_ basic plot in my mind, but still) :)) So if you have any ideas/suggestions for these two send it my way.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

Summary: Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course, resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that Arthur the butler, despite being older a few good years than him, was a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

.

.

**The Butler**

**Chapter 3**

.**  
><strong>.

Blurry red digital-light somewhere above him was displaying 5:00 AM. Alfred automatically yawned before rubbing his eyes and straightening his position a bit. It had been around three hours since Gilbert and Mathias left the apartment, and Alfred was still in the same spot the two had left him: sprawled on the carpet with his back resting on the side of the bed frame. A few bottles, snacks, and empty fast-food containers were scattered around him, solid proof that there was some kind of social drinking going on earlier. But the mess hardly mattered right now, since he had a mission to do. Alfred got up slowly, his legs a little wobbly from staying in the same position for too long. He dragged himself to his bedroom door, stood there while pressing his ear to the cool surface of said door, and listened hard.

Somewhere across the hall, water was running. Then a door creaked from being opened. Light footsteps fell one after another, heading towards the living room. Alfred could already imagine a certain butler in the midst of his morning routine. It always started with Arthur turning on the tap and letting the hot water run slowly into his bathtub. While waiting for it to fill, the Englishman would lavish his attention to his beloved potted roses in the balcony outside the living room. The whole ordeal would take about five minutes. Alfred knew this little fact, because sometimes the noise of Arthur moving around the apartment would wake him up. _No_, he did not try to wake up early just to catch the butler in thin cotton pajamas and a pair of fuzzy unicorn slippers, no matter how adorable the sight was. A-anyways, moving on.

This meant that the young Jones only had five minutes to carry on with his revenge plan. He thought this one up just tonight with Gilbert and Mathias. The three men were pretty pissed that Alfred was treated like some fucking Cinderella and was forbidden to go to this mad party on the other side of the city ("You have an eight o'clock meeting in the morning, sir. So no parties, I'm afraid." Insert a whip crack here). The butler even had the audacity to recruit the number one security guard of the apartment, Vash Zwingli, to monitor the building's entrance and make sure the heir did not slip by. However, Arthur did not take the precaution of people _coming into_ the building, hence the late night visit of Gilbert and Mathias. In addition, Arthur was quite a heavy sleeper. So any additional noises after the man had gone to bed were usually ignored.

Back to the plan, the trio had stolen Arthur's entire tea collection, including the rare ones that he got from his world-wide network of tea lover friends, from the kitchen cabinet. They wrapped the stolen goods using Alfred's leather jacket, and went back to the room in badly-covered giggles. So now, after hours of waiting, Alfred was left to do the final deed of the plan.

After the sound of Arthur's steps had disappeared, indicating he was probably out in the balcony, Alfred sprung into action. The bubbly blond cracked open his door, peered into the empty hallway, and immediately stormed into Arthur's room while carrying the tea leaves-filled leather jacket on his shoulder like Santa's sack. His thought of revenge was derailed for a few seconds when he noticed Arthur had not yet made his bed. The comforter was halfway thrown to the side, revealing a simple white bed sheet still creased from movements during slumber. The pillow laid slightly askew next to a shabby green winged-bunny stuffed toy, a dent still visible from where the Briton's head rested for the night. The American wondered if Arthur's heat or scent still lingered there. He was half-tempted to just lie down on the mattress and bury his face on its soft surface, immersing himself in what was remaining of Arthur's presence. But the sound of water hitting cold, ceramic floor snapped him back into reality.

The tub was already overflowing when Alfred stepped into the adjacent bathroom. The rising steam greeted him with a warm puff on his face. Not wasting another time, the young man opened his bundle and dumped all the tea leaves inside into the bathtub. With a maniacal glee, he watched as the clear liquid began to turn reddish brown. The scent that wafted through the air was strongly _Arthur_, and Alfred found himself wanting to drown in it once again.

Well, he would quite literally drown by Arthur's hands if he did not move his ass out before the butler returned to the bathroom. So off he went, making a mad dash to the front door.

"Young master?"

He bumped into Arthur in the hallway. The exit was already visible, just a few feet behind the Briton. Alfred gave him a shit-eating grin, and in a rush of a rather foolish bravery, he swooped down and pecked Arthur on the cheek.

Arthur's face colored in record time, "W-w-what are you—?"

But Alfred already slipped past with a "Bye, Artie!", and ran off to freedom and to safety of the outside world.

* * *

><p>Alfred stood on the side way of the main road as his chest heaved in an uneven pattern. He was still trying to catch his breath after climbing down through several sets of fire escape stairs, opting not to use the elevator in case Arthur tried to catch up with him. So far, he saw neither the horrendous eyebrows nor the cute ass of Arthur Kirkland. The blond took a deep breath and whistled a harsh tune that every cab driver in New York would recognize. All he needed to do now was to stay low-key at Kiku's place until the whole thing had blown over. Shouldn't be too long; it was only tea, after all. How mad could Arthur be?<p>

A loud yell of 'America, fuck yeah!' alerted Alfred of an incoming text message. He groped around his jeans and finally pulled out the cell.

.

From: **England's finest ass**

[Look up.]

.

Alfred complied, looking up just in time to see an object rushing down to fulfill gravity's call. With a yelp, he instantly jumped to the side, narrowly missing the object that had shattered upon meeting the hard concrete.

"What the—" He gazed down at the remains. The shiny, black thing with broken screen and several chunks chipped off of it looked rather familiar. W-was that his PSP? The American swallowed a lump on his throat as he shifted his look upward again. He could somewhat make out Arthur's figure, standing on the balcony of their apartment. There was something on the man's hand. Oh, look, he let it go.

"…"

Well, shit.

With another yelp, he scrambled away from where he was standing. The unidentified thing broke on the spot with frightening precision just a few seconds after. It was his Wii. It seemed like Arthur was using his consoles as ammo. Then what would come next was probably…He confirmed his suspicion as Arthur returned to the balcony with his Xbox 360. Alfred's eyes grew big, especially when the butler was balancing the gadget on the balcony's railing.

"OH GAWD, ARTHUR, PLEASE DON'T DO IT!" Both his hands instinctively clutched on his chest. This was too brutal. His poor heart couldn't take it. "MY BABY IS INNOCENT!"

Arthur only cackled, "YOU DROWNED MY TEA, I DESTROY YOUR BABY!"

As ignorant as Alfred sometimes could be, he knew a killing intention when he saw one. Plus, there was hardly anyone on the street, so no eyewitness. This was the perfect crime scene. Alfred blew another harsh whistle, thanked God when a cab finally screeched to a halt beside him, and immediately jumped into the vehicle right when his poor electronic soul mate met its tragic end.

"Holy Jeezus!" He breathed out, while looking back at the ruins of his beloved game consoles as the cab drove away. Who knew Arthur would go apeshit because of some fucking tea leaves like that? But then again, Arthur was English, wasn't he? And weren't all English people absolutely crazy about their tea? Still, that didn't make it right for Arthur to murder his children like that.

Yeah, it wasn't his fault, the American decided stubbornly. Arthur was the one who started it by being all controlling and shit. _Although it is his job as my butler_, his treacherous mind supplied. He let the inner battle raged on as he glared at the passing view, both hands firmly crossed on his chest.

"The girlfriend seems kinda angry back there, _asere_."

"Huh?"

The cab driver glanced back with a small smile, "Your girlfriend. She's angry, no?"

Alfred couldn't help but chuckled at that. "Yeah, I guess…_she_...kinda is."

"Ah, then it's good that you left. Give time to think, yes?" The dark-skinned, dreadlocks-haired driver grinned at his young passenger through the rear view mirror. There was an exotic accent slipping through his English. "When I get into a fight with the wife, I would take a drive or a walk around the park. After all the anger is gone, then we can start talking rationally, and put ourselves in each other shoes. You have to be willing to do that to make a relationship work, _asere_. If you're having even the tiniest idea that you're better than your other half, well, nothing will ever be resolved. _Nada_."

"I know I'm not a better person." The blond sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. "I guess it's kinda hard to admit that certain things might really be my fault."

"At least you know that some things can be your fault. That's a good start." The driver winked.

"So dude," Alfred pushed himself up and leaned closer to the driver's seat. "If you want to apologize to your wife, what do you usually do?"

* * *

><p>Thinking back, Alfred really should've known better than to trust the love child of his, Gilbert's, and Mathias' brains, especially after those rounds of shots that pretty much robbed the three of their common senses. The prank was childish and uncalled for, he admitted that. So here he was now, standing nervously in front of his own apartment door with a bouquet of red roses in one hand, and a medium-sized cake in another. He gave the cake a quick look, silently wishing the bright green icing of 'I'm sorry, Arthur. Smile again please?' and the bright yellow smiley face with three lines for each eyebrow underneath the writing would be sufficient to appease the butler.<p>

After taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Seconds ticked by, but nobody was answering. So he moved the bouquet into the crook of his neck, securing it between his cheek and his shoulder. He jammed his hand into his jeans pocket for the apartment key, and with difficulty, he unlocked the door.

"Arthur?"

Again, just silence. A bit worried, Alfred decided to find the elusive butler himself. He walked in and headed towards the kitchen, but paused at the living room as he was passing it.

The Englishman was sitting on the sofa with his head lolled to one side, deeply asleep if the soft snoring was anything to go by. Both his hands were lightly holding Alfred's leather jacket (the thing must've fallen off somewhere during the American's hasty retreat) to his chest. Alfred did not know what the simple act meant, but he knew it stirred his heart.

The heir put down his peace offerings on the coffee table before bending over near Arthur. He was about to position the butler into his arms, and carry him to his room when Arthur stirred. Sleep-glazed green eyes fluttered open, and began to focus on the presence beside him. "Alfred?" His words were still slurred.

"Hi, beautiful." Alfred whispered back, liking the way his name rolled off the other's tongue.

Arthur's mind seemed to have caught up as the man suddenly sat up straight, looking a little bewildered; perhaps because either Alfred was currently gazing down at him intently in close proximity, or because of the term of endearment that was said in a tone fit for a lover.

"Y-y-you're back…" Arthur slowly scooted away from the American. His cheeks were burning up with a blush. "I mean, young master, I…"

"Look, Arthur!" Alfred cut him off, deciding to be merciful and gave Arthur a time to collect his thoughts. "I got ya something." The sunny blond took both the roses and the cake from the table and pushed the two items into the man's arm. Pink was dusting his own cheeks now. "I'm really sorry about your tea."

"I apologize as well, sir." Arthur immediately jumped into the conversation. "I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me. Perhaps I can pay you back for the games—"

"Shush, Artie..." Alfred placed a finger on Arthur's lips, effectively cutting the butler off once more. "I can just buy the consoles again, but there's something I want more, from you. Now, what do you gentlemen usually say or do when someone gives you a gift?" He grinned as he specifically pointed at the word 'smile' on the cake.

Arthur just stared at him for a second, before both edges of his lips finally turned upward into a genuine gentle smile that was rarely seen on the Brit.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Alfred was surprised by the appearance of a plate of…some sort of snack (he's not too sure, they kinda looked like charcoals) on the floor right in front of his bedroom door. There was a tiny card slipped among the baked goods, displaying 'I'm sorry' in a neat, cursive handwriting. The young Jones smiled as he bent down to retrieve the present. It was then that he saw the Game Stop gift card previously hidden beneath the plate. The amount on the gift card was not much, but his smile automatically got wider.<p>

Arthur just made his day.

.

.

**EXTRA:**

Remember the day that was made by Arthur's gift? Yeah, it was rather short lived.

His stomach was making that weird rumbling noise again just as he was zipping up his pants. Alfred groaned in defeat and began taking off the piece of clothing for the umpteenth time today. His ass was getting too acquainted with the toilet seat as he would ever want it to be.

"For the love of the Queen, this is why I told you not to eat those horrid fast foods too much. Do you see what happened?" Arthur began to nag on the other side of the bathroom door. "I'll call the office and let them know you're ill." A pause, then he said in a soft almost timid way, "But don't worry, I will take care of you, sir." There was definitely a smile somewhere in that sentence.

Alfred did not have the heart to tell Arthur the true cause of his diarrhea.

TBC

Cuban-Spanish Translation (sorry if there's any mistake):

_Asere_: buddy

_Nada:_Nothing

**A/N:** As usual, big tons of love and thank you to my lovely beta-readers: **Eva Hazuki** and **Star Anise**. I don't know how you two can handle all my bad grammars and punctuation mistakes. You guys are like my heroes ;)

Of course, a shower of love to all **my readers/reviewers/people who subscribe for alerts/people who favorite** this story. Your kind words keep me going with this story (and life, especially when it gets kinda shitty). So I really appreciate it. After all, what's a story without readers, yeah? And thank you for all the wonderful ideas! I haven't manage to include them in this chapter, but hopefully I can do that in the future chapters. There is one idea from Hexa that I believe will go quite nicely into the plot for the next chapter ;) So keep those ideas coming if you have any, guys. They really spark my imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

**Summary: **Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course, resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that Arthur the butler, despite being older a few good years than him, was a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

**A/N:** Where would I be without my wonderful betas? So a shout out of thanks and much love to Eva Hazuki and Star Anise :D

And to **anon** reviewers who I can't thank personally:

LOVIN' YA MESMERIZE BULLS: Your review (and your name) made me giggle, and blush, and ahshdjsdhjsk ;A; Thank you so much!

kalimay: I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much :D Thank you for the kind review.

**Warnings:** Slight seemingly RussUK

.

**The Butler**

**Chapter 4**

.**  
><strong>.

Ever since the prank incident, Arthur Kirkland had noticed that his young master was becoming more affectionate towards him, and not in the shameless flirting kind of way. He was used to the arse-staring, the offhand suggestion that they should be involved in some sort of bedroom activity together, or anything that remotely resembled sexual harassment (he had plenty of practice dealing with this kind of issue considering he had the frog as a friend since university). But the tender looks, the subtle lingering touches, the lit-up eyes and dopey smile gracing the American's face whenever he saw him...ugh, it was utterly irritating how those things could make him feel like he just swallowed a jar of live butterflies.

Then there were those little...'tokens of appreciation', as Alfred would call them. From the traditional flowers and chocolate, to the less desirable McDonald meals, the loud blond always managed to bring something home for Arthur after work. He might be overstepping his boundaries as an employee by thinking this, but it seemed as if the heir was trying to (dared he say it?) court him.

Instantly, a blush was blooming on each of the Briton's cheek for two reasons. The first being a realistic image of Alfred, with those blasted baby blue eyes, and that dreadfully handsome boyish charm popping up somewhere in the corner of his mind uninvited. The second was the shame he felt for even coming up with such a preposterous idea. After all, why would an attractive, young heir of a multimillion dollar company want to associate himself romantically with a mere butler who was also older a few good years than him?

Arthur shook his head as he took one last drag out of his fag before stubbing it on a small metal ashtray, which was next to him on a table near the balcony railing. Honestly, this must had been some kind of a game to Alfred, trying to take the piss out of the poor unsuspecting butler or something similarly vile like that. Well, he refused to be reduced to a blubbering lovesick fool by that absolutely beautiful prat.

* * *

><p>"You are blubbering like a lovesick fool, <em>Sourcil<em>. Repeat it one more time, _s'il vous plait_?"

"Frog!" Arthur spat the nickname like a curse word into the speaker phone. "I was not blubbering, you just happened to give me a ring when I'm currently-" he paused to sniff and rub his nose with his arm before continuing, "-chopping up some onions."

It was Francis' turn to pause. Then with a dreading tone he asked, "Why are you allowed in the kitchen? _Mon Dieu, _should I call the fire department right away?"

"Oh, belt up!" The Englishman waved the knife he was currently using, and made some kind of a vague, but obscene motion in the air. "I'm only making some sandwiches. Alfred is coming home for lunch, you see..." He purposefully trailed off. The sound of a knife on a chopping board momentarily filled the silence. "I-it's not like I'm doing this because of him personally. It's just one of my duties as an excellent butler."

"_Oui, oui._" Francis did not sound like he particularly believed it, or cared for that matter. "So what was that about 'im asking you on a date?"

"It isn't a date!" Arthur flushed, silently thankful that Francis couldn't see him at the moment. "He only said that an acquaintance of his is holding some sort of a charity dinner and musical performance tonight, and he requested me to accompany him. As his butler, naturally." He hastily added the last bit as an afterthought.

"Aah, so that's the reason you won't be needing my-" The Frenchman paused meaningfully, being the fucking drama queen that he was, and continued with an emphasis, "-_service_ tonight. Shall I wish you good luck with _l'amour_?"

"There is no bloody _l'amour_, you frog." Arthur seethed as he unceremoniously dumped the finished sandwiches onto a plate. "It's strictly a professional relationship."

"Of course, _mon ami_."

Arthur could've sworn there was the usual 'ohonhonhon' laugh concealed somewhere in that sentence.

* * *

><p>The moment seven in the evening ticked by, Arthur found himself clad in an expensive, brand-named tuxedo, his hair neatly slicked back with enough amount of hair gel to tame the unruly locks.<p>

"I don't understand, sir," Arthur smoothed out the front of his tailcoat jacket, suddenly feeling very self-conscience, especially with his young master currently gazing at him with bright, round eyes. "I'm certain my usual suit would have been sufficed for the occasion, so there is no need for you to spend money on a new tuxedo just for me."

"No, no, no. This is totally worth it." Alfred beamed as he examined the Englishman from head to toe. He was nodding with satisfaction. "All you need is a top hat, and you would've look exactly like one of those high-class Victorian dudes, except that you're sexier, of course."

"Err..." Arthur flushed as his hand began to smooth out the non-existent wrinkle from the jacket once again. "You're being too kind, sir." _Especially when you're the one who look like the personification of Adonis himself_, his mind added while taking in the sight of the young American in a similarly-styled tuxedo. The garment was accentuating the muscular beauty of Alfred's figure perfectly. It made his broad shoulders appear more angular, and it also redefined his torso and waist in a way that created a stunning, manly curve. Not to mention that elongated pair of legs, and that firm bum.

If Arthur had less self restraint, he would've started salivating by now.

"A hero only speaks the truth, Artie." The American winked before he straightened up and opened the front door. He turned a little to the side, offering his right hand to the butler. "Shall we, my lord?" An alluring smile was gracing his features.

Arthur chuckled and replied in a teasing tone, "Aren't you quite a charmer, Mr. Jones?" Nonetheless, he reached out and took the hand into his own.

* * *

><p>As far as Arthur could see, only the wealthy and prominent individuals were attending, with most of them walking about and socializing inside the large ballroom where the pre-party was currently underway. Alfred introduced him to a few of his friends and their respective butlers or maids, whom all seems quite interesting (and by that he meant worrisome). But none left a much deeper impression in Arthur except for Mathias Kohler...or rather, his stoic butler, Lukas Bondevik.<p>

The Norwegian was unresponsive during the initial introduction and conversation, which somehow turned into a silly argument between the two young masters on 'whose butler is more adorable.' But when Alfred mentioned that Arthur had unicorns and fairies as imaginary friends ("C'mon dude, how adorable is that?"), Lukas immediately appeared interested. The reason was revealed when Mathias laughingly claimed that his butler often mistook tall buildings as giants ("It's so ridiculous, it's adorable!"), promptly earning the Dane a vengeful step on his toe from the smaller man. The common interest in mythical creatures soon got the two butlers talking amiably, and later ended the chat with a smile and a warm handshake.

As of now, Arthur was standing near a fake potted sun flower at one corner of the room, feeling a tad out of place without his young master beside him. Alfred had told the Brit to wait there and left to approach an important looking middle-aged gentleman near the refreshment table. Posing as the perfect lone wallflower (leaning against the wall, arms were crossing against each other on the chest), Arthur could feel a few people were throwing curious glances at him. They were probably wondering why they had never seen him among their golden circle until now, and whether it would be beneficial to network with him.

It was absolutely unnerving.

Arthur tried to catch Alfred's eyes, telepathically willing him to return. But the silent communication went unnoticed as Alfred was too involved in a quarrel with the older man, whom, now that Arthur looked closely, seemed to resemble the American. The Brit clicked his tongue in annoyance and finally resorted to his natural defense mechanism: glowering. He also shuffled closer to the fake plant next to him, attempting to look less conspicuous behind the giant sun flower.

"What are you doing?" A childish tone of voice spoke up from somewhere not too far from where he was standing.

Arthur detected the Eastern European accent, somewhat imagining the speaker to be a foreign youth with a cherubic face. When he turned to the speaker, indeed his guess was right on the mark, except that it did not include the prominent height and well-built body.

"I-I," The butler coughed on his hand as an attempt to mask his embarrassment at being caught. "I'm only...uh, inspecting the flower, sir. It's quite nice."

Suddenly the man's round face lit up. "You are right, comrade. Sunflowers are beautiful, _da_? I tried to plant a few in my house, but I've never seem to be able to grow them right."

Relieved that he had managed to steer the conversation away from him, Arthur smiled and replied, "Sunflowers are quite easy, really. The basic things to remember are to make sure that they have plenty of sun and that they aren't being planted too close to each other. They hate being crammed, but then again, don't we all?"

Afterwards, the discussion just flowed smoothly on the subject of gardening. It gave the two men an opportunity to exchange personal tips and stories. However, in the midst of it, Arthur's gentleman instinct kicked in and he immediately realized his mistake.

"Oh, forgive me, sir. Where is my manner? I forgot to introduce myself." He straightened his posture. One hand reached out to the man for a handshake. "My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I work under Mister Alfred F. Jones."

A mischievous look passed on the hulking male's expression when he heard of Alfred, but then it quickly vanished without a trace. The man accepted the offered hand, although unexpectedly he also pulled Arthur forward into a one arm embrace and leaned in. All of a sudden, cheek met cheek, thrice in alternate. "I am Ivan Braginski. It's wonderful to meet you, Arthur." He whispered near the butler's ear.

Arthur's first impulse was to tell Braginski to kindly _fuck off_ from his personal space, but then his brain caught up and realized the gesture might be an Eastern European greeting custom. Yes, perhaps it was something similar to French greetings (although Francis always made sure to also squeeze his arse cheek, the perverted tosser). Not wanting to be rude, but clearly uncomfortable with the close proximity, Arthur firmly pushed against the other man's chest. "Excuse me, sir, but you're too close to my person—"

He didn't get to finish his polite protest, as he was suddenly grabbed on the shoulder and was forcefully pulled backwards. His back landed on something with a soft thud, and then a muscular arm snaked around his stomach, keeping him in place. Alfred's voice rang out angrily right behind him, "What the fuck did you think you're doing to Arthur, Braginski?"

"We're friends." Ivan simply answered while smiling innocently, although it did not reach his eyes. "And I really hate it when someone interrupts my conversation with a friend."

"Well, I really hate it when you lay your fat hands on him!"

"Well, your fat belly is probably poking poor Arthur's back right now." Ivan's smile didn't even twitch when he grasped one of Arthur's arms and pulled it to his direction. "You should really start using all those liposuction coupons I've sent you, comrade."

"Maybe _you_ should use them to slim down that fat nose of yours!" Alfred tightened his hold on the Englishman.

"Your head is fat!" Ivan pulled Arthur hard to his direction.

"Well, your face!" Alfred spat as he copied the act to the opposite direction.

"Lads, please!" Arthur tried, half pleading for the sake of his sore muscles.

"Your мать is so fat—"

"Oh no, you _didn't_!"

Bugger it all.

"I WILL _PERSONALLY ENSURE_ YOU TWO OVERGROWN CHILDREN WILL BECOME FAT ONCE I'VE PULLED OUT YOUR INTESTINES FROM YOUR ARSES AND STUFFED THEM DOWN YOUR THROATS IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR HOLES AND LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!"

The two men stopped what they were doing, and unfortunately, so were hundreds of people in the same room. Arthur blinked at the sudden silence, and then promptly turning red when he realized he was the object of everybody's attention.

Cranking up all the gears in his brain, Arthur struggled free from the two imbeciles' grasp. He straightened his jacket, let out a fake cough, and gave a flourish bow to the crowd. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a preview of an upcoming charity drama performance that will be held and performed by both Mr. Jones and Mr. Braginski. Please look forward to it in the future."

The crowd exploded in thunderous hand claps and excited whispers. There was also a particular out loud question from somewhere among the sea of people ("Fuck! Am I drunk or did he really say Al and Ivan are gonna work together? Mein Gott, I need to record that just in case someone actually killed somebody this time.") that pretty much summed up everyone's opinions.

Then a feminine voice shouted in a very hopeful tone, "Will there be a hot gay threesome in the show?"

Never before in his life was Arthur this certain that the rich were absolutely barmy.

TBC

Russian Translation:

Мать: Mom

**A/N:** So Hexa's idea is "a party and all the ceo and family are there, other ones have butlers too and maybe one character would want to get arthur as their butler", but I changed it a bit to Ivan just wanted to mess with Al a little. I hope you don't mind xD And I think I told someone I might do a drunk scene, but that'll be in the next chapter ;) So yeah, if you guys still have ideas and stuff, don't hesitate to send it my way.

AGAIN, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS STILL STICKING WITH THIS RIDICULOUS STORY! C'MERE AND LET ME LOVE YOU! (/ ;A;)/


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

**Summary: **Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course, resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that Arthur the butler, despite being older a few good years than him, was a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

**A/N:** A grateful hug to both Eva Hazuki and Star Anise who survived yet another week of my bad writing. You two are such wonderful betas.

And to **anon** reviewers who I can't thank personally:

LoverofCrucio12: I'm sure anyone else could also come up with such improvisation, since I'm not that creative, lol. But thank you for liking Arthur's little performance there!

LOVIN ANON IS BAAACK: ALRIGHT, WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE DO YOU LIVE? Because I'm gonna give you the warmest, tightest hug of love in the world!

.

**The Butler**

**Chapter 5**

.**  
><strong>.

Every time those long elegant fingers struck the piano, a bar of symphony by Schubert flowed gently, though sometimes it switched into a more vigorous manner and quickly back again to soft, almost teasingly. The pianist, young with aristocratic feature, nodded his head along with his version of Piano Sonata No. 16. The beauty of the clear piano sound that echoed throughout the performance hall was enough to captivate the whole audience—

"ZZZZZ...ZZZ...ZZZZZZ"

"GROOK...snort...GROOOOOOOOOOK..."

—except for those two blonds in the third row who had the audacity to fall asleep in the midst of a beautiful Austrian composition. Curious to see the identity of the uncultured plebeians, the pianist threw a few-seconds glance at the sleeping pair. The tall one (cowlick hair, glasses that hung askew at the very edge of his nose, and a snore that could rival the sound of a truck—_Jones, of course_), had his head slightly tilted back. His mouth was hanging open with a dribble of saliva decorating its corner. Meanwhile, the other blond (the unfamiliar one with the much-needed-trimming eyebrows) was resting his head comfortably on his companion's shoulder, hiding half his face in Alfred's lapel.

Roderich Edelstein sighed and attempted to refocus on his concert. The music from his piano kept trying to drown the horrendous snores, but alas, it was futile. He began to press the keyboard with more force than necessary, frowning and gritting his teeth all the while. The musical notes in front of him were starting to resemble blurry black blobs as his concentration cracked. Finally having enough, he stood up to give the sleeping duo a proper scolding. However, before even one syllable was out of his lips, a miniature frying pan was hurled through the air. It landed right on Jones' forehead with a painful bang, jolting him awake in the process. This, of course, also awoke the man who was previously leaning on the loud American.

"...the fuck? A frying pan?" Alfred took the cooking utensil that was now on his lap, examining it while trying to find the connection between the thing and the bump on his forehead with a still-groggy mind. But it should not take long, especially for someone in their social circle, to identify a person based on his/her choice of weapon.

"_Liiiiz_!" Alfred groaned in protest. His blue eyes zeroed in on the curvaceous brunette who was sitting at the very front row.

"You know the rule, Young Master Jones," Elizabeta Hedervary stood up and faced the blond with her infamous I-am-not-amused-young-man expression. "You disturb Master Roderich's concert, you can get the fuck ("Elizabeta, language please." Roderich reminded his personal maid, more out of habit than anything else) out of here."

"Wait a tick, Miss," Alfred's friend also rose from his seat with a slight panic look. "Don't you think it's rather severe to kick us out just like that?"

"Yeah, I mean look at Gil," Alfred pointed at the albino sitting next to Elizabeta. "He's sleeping too!"

"Oh, don't you mind about him." Elizabeta smiled proudly as she turned Gilbert's limp head to the side so that Alfred could see his face better. The German man had a tape on his mouth, as well as a clothes pin on his nose. "See? He's not making any noise."

"_Ano_, Elizabeta-san..." Kiku, who sat beside Gilbert, spoke up. "I think he isn't breathing either."

"_Nem_, he's just sleeping."

Kiku examined Gilbert again: pale face, half-lidded eyes without pupils in sight, slightly foaming mouth…

Close enough.

"Now, would you two kindly leave please, so we can carry on with the concert?" The girl's emerald eyes returned to the two men.

"But—"

"You know what, Young Master Jones? I think you should take your friend to your usual nightclub," Elizabeta smiled like the sweet girl she was usually known to be when her temper was not being tested. "I'm sure he'll enjoy it." She winked.

A look of understanding dawned on the American's face, and he was suddenly grinning from ear to ear. "Gosh, Lizzie, I…you're the best, really."

"I know." The girl laughed as she playfully tossed her beautiful wavy locks to the side.

"Let's go, Artie!" Alfred took the rather confused man's hand and pulled him along towards the exit.

* * *

><p>"Mind explaining what the bloody hell just happened, sir?" Arthur finally asked, feeling a tad irritated for being out of the loop, as the pair stepped out of the building and into the street.<p>

"Well, both Roddie and Lizzie know I don't like going to a concert like that—no offense to Roddie's skill, of course." Alfred let out his usual cheerful and slightly obnoxious laugh. "So basically Lizzie was giving us a jail free card. Or else, it would be rude if we just leave, right?"

"And _being asked_ to leave is not?"

"Nah, they send people out all the time, mostly Gilbert." Alfred looked around the busy street, before blowing a harsh whistle to attract the cabs.

"I don't understand," Arthur scrunched up both of his eyebrows together. "If that is the case, why did you insist on going to the concert tonight, sir?"

"Cause I thought _you_ would enjoy it." Alfred puffed out both his cheeks, looking much like a disappointed child who found out that his mother did quite not like the birthday gift he got her. "Aww dammit, I knew I should've just gone with the usual dinner and a movie for our date."

Arthur sharply turned toward Alfred, "Date?"

"Oh, y'know," Alfred nudged Arthur's side, winking. "That thing with two people involved in a social activity together, more often than not due to a romantic interest."

"I know what a date means, you twit." Arthur returned the nudge with twice the force. "I just didn't realize that this was supposed to be a date." He mumbled, while turning a few shades of red.

"Well, I suppose it is rather one-sided." Alfred grinned a bit guiltily.

"Perhaps next time, you would be more considerate and consult both me and my preferences before deciding on a date."Arthur huffed, crossing his arms on his chest.

"Next time? You mean you'll go if I ask you again?" Alfred immediately brightened up. His blue eyes widened in anticipation, his lips formed an open mouth smile, and coupled with the way his cowlick swayed from the night wind, Arthur could see the resemblance between the American and an excited oversized puppy.

"So will you go to this awesome nightclub with me, Artie? Will ya? Will ya?" The image of a puppy wagging his tail was getting much stronger in Arthur's mind than he would want it to be.

"Of course." He said automatically, before realizing the words that came out of his mouth, and immediately added, "I-it's not like I have a valid reason to refuse you or anything." Arthur averted his eyes from his young master, turning an even darker shade of red.

"Artie, you're the best!" That was the only warning Arthur got before he found himself trapped in a big bear hug, courtesy of the American.

"Let go, you git! People are staring!" The Englishman tried to retaliate by hitting Alfred's broad back, although the punch did not hold any real power. He was a bit distracted by the extra body warmth and the taller blonde's musky cologne in his senses. "J-just hurry and get the cab!"

"Yes, dear." Though Alfred did not let go; he merely spun around with Arthur in his arms so he was facing the street, and waved his hand to an incoming cab.

* * *

><p>There was a sense of dread crawling into Arthur when he and Alfred arrived at the nightclub. Perhaps this was due to the fact that he had not been in a nightclub for years, hence he was feeling a bit claustrophobic amongst the swarm of bodies. To make it worse, it seemed like everywhere his gaze landed, the whole lot of them were those young ones in their early or mid-twenties. Most of them were out in the dance floor, shedding sweat by grinding their bodies against each other to deafening techno music.<p>

Suddenly Arthur felt much older than he really was, and that he did not quite belong in this place where youthful energy was overflowing. While in contrast, Alfred looked very much in his element. The young heir was swaying his body to the music as he walked through the crowd, sometimes smiling and replying to a few typical 'what's up, bro?' and some flirtatious 'It's been too long, Alfie'.

And, no, he did not want to wring certain individuals' necks because they were acting too familiar with his young master. Of course not. Ha. Ha. Ha.

"Let's sit at the bar," Alfred tugged at Arthur's tuxedo coat to get his attention, and shouted near his ears to beat the noises. "It's less crowded there."

The butler nodded and followed the American, instinctively grabbing into the other's arm due to the large number of people and the horrible flashy-colored lighting, making it bloody difficult to tell where he was going.

Alfred pulled Arthur's hand away from his arm, and in one alarming moment, the Brit thought that the young man did not welcome the gesture. But then Alfred took Arthur's hand into his own, squeezing it affectionately. Arthur made a mental note not to make this blushing business a habit.

The bar was situated in a high platform, overseeing the dance floor, although the music was not as loud. They took two seats at the very end of the bar, a bit further away from the very few people who were opting to waste their times simply drinking instead of dancing the night away.

It was not long after they ordered their drinks when two girls, who were beautiful enough to be on the cover a fashion magazine, approached them. Alfred seemed to know both of them as he cheerfully called their names, along with giving a friendly hug to each girl.

Not that Arthur gave a damn, of course. It was not like the bloody git needed his permission to fucking _touch_ anyone, especially twittering birds with too much make-up on. However, his body betrayed him by tightly grasping his glass of rum and coke until his knuckles turned white as a reaction to the two girls asking Alfred for a dance.

"Thanks but no thanks, ladies," The American smiled like the charming bastard he was. "I don't wanna leave my dear Artie here alone." He patted the butler's shoulder.

"Ask him to join us, then!" One of them said with too much interest directed his way.

Arthur shuddered inwardly. "Although I am flattered, I'm afraid my dancing technique is rather outdated." He gave his best gentlemanly smile. "You beautiful ladies should choose someone who will not dampen your charms on the dance floor."

The two girls giggled excitedly among themselves, but (fortunately) decided to drop the subject.

"You should go with them and enjoy yourself, sir."

"Are you saying you don't mind if I dance with them?" There was an unreadable expression crossing Alfred's features.

"No," Arthur turned his gaze to the dark alcoholic liquid in front of him, stirring it with his straw. "Why should I mind, sir?"

There was a slight pause before finally Alfred said, "Alrighty then." He took off his tuxedo coat and put it on the seat next to Arthur. "Don't be too lonely without me." He gave the smaller blonde a reluctant smile before allowing himself to be dragged away by the girls.

After the three figures disappeared into the sea of moving bodies, Arthur had the strongest urge to knock his own head on the hard wooden table, and he did just so ("Ouch, bloody fuck!"). His glass slightly jumped at the impact, and a few curious glances were thrown his way. The miserable man did not care, though. He was too busy contemplating his own foolish action. Twenty eight years, and he still did an arse job of playing this love game. Thus, like most men in his situation, he preferred to drown his sorrow with his drink.

From time to time he would glance at the dance floor, trying to identify which cluster of bodies his young master belonged to. It was not a particularly difficult task, considering the man was prominently tall (especially with that single upright hair), and Alfred was dancing rather close to the bar as if he was purposely wanted to be seen. Then by chance, Alfred lifted his gaze and met Arthur's.

Arthur did not like the wretched feeling he experienced when he stared into those baby blues, and fully realizing that their owner was currently being pressed rather intimately by someone other than him. However, the Brit could not avert his eyes. He was entirely mesmerized with the way Alfred's hand roamed almost teasingly on his dance partner's every curves, half imagining it was his body that the strong big hand was exploring. The hallucination was pushed further by Alfred's intense stare, which never left Arthur throughout the seductive action.

The butler finally cut the eye contact when he suddenly felt much too hot. He downed the rest of his drinks (how many glass did he already have, again?), trying to cool down, although the effect turned out to be the opposite of what he hoped for. Arthur decided to take off his coat and loosen his collar. He already looked disheveled nonetheless, with his hair returning to its usual untamed style like the gel was never there in the first place—such was the power of the Kirkland's hair.

"You okay, Artie?"

Arthur jumped in his seat when suddenly Alfred's face appeared in his line of vision.

"You're face is red." The man, who was previously bending over sideways to face Arthur, straightened his back and took a seat next to him. "Don't tell me you're drunk already?" He laughed noisily, as usual.

Arthur turned his head away from the American, sulking. "It's not like I have any other choice since alcohol is my only companion." To make a point, he waved his glass in the air and bellowed to the bartender, "Keep the rum coming, mate!"

The bartender nodded and obeyed. But as Arthur reached for the newly filled drink, Alfred (the bloody yankee) swooped in and took the glass away. "I think you had enough drinks for tonight."

"Hey, give that back!" Arthur immediately flailed his hands towards the other man to reach for the drink.

"Nope." Alfred grinned impishly, showing a row of neat pearly whites. He stretched out his arm and held the glass above his head.

"Wanker!" Without much thought, mostly due to the large intake of alcohol that was beginning to cloud his judgement, Arthur stood up and climbed onto Alfred's lap. One of his knees dug into the small empty space between the other man's inner thighs, unintentionally brushing against his vital part. Arthur was far too busy trying to recapture the drink to notice Alfred's panicked look.

"W-wait, Arthur—" Alfred tried to push the man down while keeping the drink out of reach, which turned out to be a bad idea as the drink spilled and splashed the two blonds with the brownish gold liquid.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" The younger man quickly rose from his seat and put down the glass on the table before further damage could be done. Meanwhile, instead of removing himself from Alfred's lap when he felt the sudden shift of position, Arthur automatically encircled his arms and legs around his young master, clinging to him. The additional weight pulled Alfred back into the stool.

"Err...Arthur?" Alfred seemed unsure on what to do as he suddenly found himself with Arthur sitting on his lap, straddling him.

"Hnnn," Arthur mumbled, leaning on the other's shoulder almost lazily. "Perhaps this way you won't leave me alone again, young master."

It took awhile for Alfred to process the situation and the smaller man's words. When it finally clicked, the sunny blond let out his widest and brightest smile. "So you _were_ lonely."

Again, Arthur mumbled something (this time it sounded close to 'idiot') while burying his face deeper into the crook of the American's neck.

"You should've just told me the truth, Artie." The young heir nuzzled his butler's wet messy locks, breathing in Arthur's scent that was now mixed with the exotic aroma of spiced rum. His hands were rubbing the Brit's back gently. "I'd do anything you want me to."

At this, Arthur sat up straight. For a moment, green met blue in silence, both were drowning in each other's beauty. Finally the Englishman spoke,

"Then let me kiss you."

TBC

Hungarian Translation:

Nem: No

**A/N**: So here's a glimpse of drunk!Arthur, whose antics will continue in the next chapter. I hope you like him so far. And just a bit of a real-life rant: I went to Hyper Japan in London today and spent most of the time hunting Hetalia cosplayers. It was awesome and I regret nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Hetalia and its characters belong to our papa, the troll king: Himaruya.

**Summary: **Young heir of a multi-million dollar company, Alfred F. Jones' hedonistic way of life was threatened by the arrival of his parents' newest watchdog in the form of a traditional British butler. Of course, resentment quickly turned into infatuation when he found out that Arthur the butler, despite being older a few good years than him, was a man with boyish good look and adorable hissy personality perfect for Alfred's teasing pleasure. US/UK.

**A/N:** A grateful hug to Star Anise who is still willing to stick patiently with me and my grammar sins. Also a bunch of grateful kisses to Star Hazuki for spamming me with USUK pictures when I got writer's block. Gosh, what did I do to deserve such wonderful betas? ( ;A;)

And to **anon** reviewers who I can't thank personally:

Keiko: HERE YA GO 8D

vodkas sister: Because I'm a troll who loves to give cliffhanger /SHOT. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

AndyJune: (Not anon, but I can't send you PM so…) It's because of readers like you that I can proudly say I wrote this story and I REGRET NOTHING. Thanks for the review, luv!

StridersNight: And you're way too kind, dear! Thank you so much. Enjoy this chapter!

.

**The Butler**

**Chapter 6**

.**  
><strong>.

"Then let me kiss you."

Alfred could only stare and gape at his butler for a few seconds, which apparently stretched to forever for Arthur because the man leaned in until the very tips of their noses touched each other and said, "You're over-thinking this, Sir." Warm breath mingled with an alcoholic scent stroked the young heir's skin, while those brilliant emeralds focused only on him. "Yes or no?"

That did it for Alfred. Right after the words left Arthur's lips, the American dove in and eagerly smashed their lips together. He ignored the few cat-calls and whistles, fully knowing that a couple (be it heterosexual or gay) making out was not a rarity in this club, hence the unwanted audience would soon lose interest anyway. There were more pressing issues here, such as making Arthur feels so good that the little man would stop with the damn strugg—

A resounding smack was heard, followed instantly with a throbbing soreness on his left cheek. Alfred's jaw hung in shock before finally he let out a dramatic gasp. "D-did you just punch me?"

Arthur's lips were red and slightly puckered in a pout. "I said, _I_ want to kiss _you_," he spoke slowly with a hint of slurring, either because he thought he was talking to a rather dim child, or because he was just too smashed to form words at normal speed. "Not _you_—" he jabbed his finger at the other blonde's chest, "—kissing _me_."

"What's the difference?"

"A whole world of difference." Arthur furrowed his eyebrows as if challenging his young master to contradict him. "Now, are you willing to be a good lad and listen to my every command?" He leaned in further, apparently this time aiming for Alfred' ear since he could feel the puff of air in his right one. "What says you, Young Master?"

Alfred definitely did not just imagine the lick on his ear shell. The wet and ticklish sensation ran a shiver all over his body. It shut down his whole thought process, and so he did the only thing he could: nodded dumbly at whatever Arthur was saying.

"Splendid." The butler straightened his position and smiled sweetly like the Britannia Angel he appeared to be. Of course, the illusion disappeared once the man grabbed both sides of Alfred's collar and, with a burst of strength, ripped the white material apart.

"...A-Arthur?" Alfred was now simultaneously feared for his life and majorly turned on. _Fuck_—and the masochist in him meant that in a good way.

"Shush, love." Both his hands reached out and gently cradled each of the American's cheek. "Now, say 'aah' and stick out your tongue."

Alfred obediently did just so. Due to their close proximity, even in the dim room he could see Arthur's predatory smirk. The American reacted with a deep blush and, when Arthur pulled himself closer, he held his breath. As if in slow motion, he could follow every detail of the Briton separating his lips, allowing Alfred's tongue to slip inside, and enclosing it in warmth. First, there was merely pressure on the small appendage, but it quickly followed by sucking. Alfred also moved his tongue by instinct, wanting to taste more of the man in his arms, but Arthur whined in protest.

Not ready to risk killing the mood, Alfred decided to play the submissive lover. But with every sensation he felt (the way the Englishman roamed inside every inch of his mouth, constantly sucking and licki—_oh, God_...Was that a hand over his nipple?), Alfred absolutely needed to do something. So he settled for the next best thing: one of his arms wrapped itself around the butler's waist, while the other went lower and found a perfectly fuckable round firm ass within his grasp. He skilfully massaged the body part, kneading the (unfortunately still clothed) muscle underneath his fingers.

Arthur let out a deep throat hum of approval as he hoisted himself just enough to give Alfred more access. The American gladly took the offer and went further, cupping more part of the other man's bottom, and eventually found the one anatomy he wanted to explore further. His index finger brushed at the spot he guessed was the butler's entrance, and going by Arthur's sharp intake of breath, it seemed he was right on the mark. The bubbly blonde smirked at his discovery. His finger began rubbing and prodding at the puckered hole, although that damn thick cloth of the trousers acted as a fucking virginity fort against his touch. Alfred replaced the smirk with a frown, and even though Arthur could probably still sense the slight intrusion (a lustful moan from said man was the proof), the young heir never felt like zapping a piece of clothing into nothingness as much as he did right now.

"Wait...Arthur..." Alfred pulled the butler away by his shoulders, positioning him so that they were facing each other properly. Those green eyes stared back at him with confusion and dejection. The look nearly broke Alfred's heart and made him reacted instantly with a soft kiss to the smaller man's forehead. "Don't look at me like that, babe," he whispered. "I was just gonna say that...from now on, I will not hold back."

With that, he reinitiated the kiss. This time, both men were ready to fight for dominance. Noises from the clash of lips and two drumming hearts filled their ears. Arthur looped his hands around his young master's neck, playfully tugging the golden locks at the base of his head. Meanwhile, Alfred once again reached Arthur's pants, unbuttoning it. His hand sneaked in through the opening, passed the brief's waistband, and grasped the slightly hardened member.

"Wha..." Arthur stopped the kiss, casting a confused look down to where Alfred's hand was. "D-don't do that here, idio—ah!" the sudden sucking on his collar bone distracted Arthur from his protest, although only a second. "What if people...nngh...see? H-hey! Are you...haah...listening?" His protest got weaker toward the end as Alfred began stroking his length in a measured pace.

"Just lift your legs a bit to cover it, Artie." Alfred breathed out against Arthur's skin. "It's dim and they're not really paying attention, anyway."

It seemed that at this point, Arthur's mind was already too hazy to complain. The butler just obeyed and raised his legs to somewhat cover the shameless activity in his nether region, while holding on to Alfred's shoulders for support.

"That's it." Alfred kissed the man again, gently and loving this time, although his fingers did the opposite and increased the speed. "How does it feel, Arthur?"

"AANH, ALFR—mff!" Arthur hurriedly clasped his mouth shut with his hand. The embarrassment (how could he produce such a vulgar sound? How could he even hear the friction of skin against skin in this loud setting?) and the pleasant feeling down there almost drove him insane. He buried his face on Alfred's right shoulder, tightly closing both eyes.

Alfred continued attacking the Englishman's slender neck, decorating it with a trail of red marks from somewhere in the middle to the base. His hand was still expertly handling Arthur's sensitive part, which he could proudly say that by now was hard as a rock and slick with pre-cum. His own member had also begun to erect, ready for further action. Perhaps he could somehow convince Arthur to let him put it in?

At the thought of a part of himself being inside the beautiful butler, Alfred's face turned red in both excitement and lust. Yeah, maybe they could do it in the toilet? Not the most romantic place, but dammit, he would take Arthur anyplace, anytime, as long as the man consented to it.

The young American looked up, trying to locate his options of 'best place to fuck' in the establishment, while his stroking became more rapid to the point of desperation. It was then that the unfortunate incident happened. Perhaps it was because he was moving the wrong way, or their position was not that steady from the beginning, or life was simply being a bitch, but no matter the reason...the fact was that it did happened and dashed any opportunities for Alfred to have a good fuck that night.

"W-WHOAAAA!"

"AAAAAAAH!"

Two cries erupted when the stool tilted backward, taking both men down with it. Two bodies hit the floor, with the larger one at the bottom. People who happened to be at the site were laughing, while some were muttering "Drunkards..." under their breath and decided to ignore them.

Alfred blinked a few times, trying to re-gather his thoughts after the shock. The first thing that came into his mind was to check on Arthur. It seemed like sometime during the fall, Alfred had instinctively wrapped both his hands around Arthur to protect him. The man was now laid motionless on top of him; his face was hidden on Alfred's chest. He appeared to be uninjured. Still, Alfred couldn't help but to feel worry. "Artie, are you okay?"

"...Came."

"Artie?"

Arthur lifted his face, red just like his beloved roses. All sign of drunkenness had gone, replaced by something that resembled shame. His eyes were round and teary as he whispered, "...I think I just came."

Alfred stared at him for a good few seconds, before a wide grin appeared. "You came because of the fall? That's so fucking cute!" He laughed. "Now I just need to figure out how to make you come because you _fall for_ me, not _on_ top of me. Got it? Fall?" His laughter grew to his usual boisterous laugh.

A loud smack once again was heard, although this time the pain came from his right cheek. Alfred rubbed the red area, wincing.

"I guess the joke deserves that punch."

"Fucking right it does, you arse."

* * *

><p>"K-Kikuuuu," Alfred sniffed and whined at the phone. "It's been three days since that thing happened and Arthur still won't let me touch him anymore! What should I do?"<p>

"Did you properly apologize for killing the mood with your clumsiness and ill-timed joke?" The Japanese young man sounded perfectly calm as usual. "And why is there an echo from your side? I'm sorry for asking, but Alfred-kun...are you calling me...from the toilet?"

"Uh...yeah. Sorry, dude. I hope you don't mind." The American chuckled guiltily. "I just don't want Arthur to hear this call. And I did some personal business here a few moments ago. This actually relates back to the Arthur thing," he began to rant while fiddling with the toilet paper holder right beside him. "Ever since that night, I've been wanting to do more and more...to do all sorts of 'fun' stuffs to him, y'know? But he won't even allow me to fucking hug him. I got a blow in the stomach the last time I tried. So now whenever I have the urges, my hand becomes my trusted partner and the bathroom becomes my safe haven. But don't worry, I already washed my hands before calling you."

"...that's simply too much information, Alfred-kun."

"Err, sorry, again." Alfred apologized earnestly, although he knew Kiku wasn't even angry. A bit disturbed, perhaps, but the dude just did not do anger. Not openly, at least. He could clearly imagine his best friend shaking his head with a small smile right now.

"Back to my first question, did you properly apologize to Kirkland-san?"

"Yeah, I even bought him flowers!"

"And his reaction?"

Alfred stared at the ceiling, smiling a bit as he recalled the memory. "He was blushing and stuttering. It was damn adorable."

"So he forgave you, then?"

"He said he did," Alfred pouted. "But he still pretty much ignores me. Hell, he won't even look me straight in the eye unless he really has to."

"Hmm," There was a pause, and Alfred figured this was the part where Kiku put his hand under his chin and think. "Perhaps Kirkland-san is still embarrassed because you did all those _ecchi _things with him that night?"

"Edgy?"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I accidentally used my native slang." Kiku chuckled. "What I mean is dirty, naughty, perverted, lewd, shamele—"

"Alright, alright!" Alfred turned a bright shade of red while rubbing the back of his neck. "Geez dude, I got it already. So if he _is_ embarrassed, what should I do to make him _not_ embarrassed to do those kinds of things with me? No, better yet, how to make him _wants_ to do those kinds of things with me?"

"That's easy!" Suddenly Elizabeta's cheery voice came on. "You just need to create the perfect moment to resolve the sexual tension."

"Li-Liz? Since when were you listening? And why are you over at Kiku's?"

"You're on speaker phone since the beginning, Young Master Jones." The Hungarian giggled. "And it's our usual yaoi apprecia—uh, I mean, it's my day off and so I thought, why not visit Young Master Honda and have a good chat over a cup of tea? A-anyway," she coughed once. "Back to your problem, I believe that it would do you and Mr. Kirkland some good if you two go on a vacation."

"Vacation, huh?" Alfred rubbed his chin, mentally picturing all sorts of activities he and Arthur could do during a vacation. Perhaps they could go to his family's seaside villa? Arthur could lie on a blanket and read some boring book while he went swimming. Then he would offer to put some sun screen on Arthur's soft creamy skin, and things would lead further. Or, they could go on a camping trip, and at night, when Arthur was afraid of the ghosts, he would be a total hero and comfort him. Then things would heat up and—

"AMAZING IDEA, LIZ!" He couldn't resist yelling excitedly whilst wiping the drool on the corner of his lips.

"Of course, I'm the expert at resolving UST." Elizabeta claimed proudly. "Now, all we need to do is to figure out where to go."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Kiku rejoined the conversation. "I have a plan."

TBC

**A/N:** I'm using my usual style of transition here because I think it fits, but if it's weird please do tell me (winks winks nudges at Lunar Iris). This is my first time writing something smut-like, and the whole time I was going 'WHAT THE HELL AM I WRITING? I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M GONNA SHOW THIS TO PEOPLE!' But yeah, here it is. Have any critics or suggestion for that scene? Please, come at me bro! I'm ready for the judgement.


End file.
